I am in the corner again
inside these walls of knowledge filled with many others
creating a world where despite of the noise, is a lonely and silent place to sit in.
I have to reach out to them
to the ones who know me:
to the pencil
to my crayons,
to myself.
They say I am a coward
I am not, I am not afraid,
I am just shy or timid or anxious
or... or...
Maybe I am a coward
I am not sure where I belong.
Do I really belong?
No one asks me
except me
"Am I hungry?"
"Am I sleepy?"
"Am I alright?"
I answer me,
No
Yes
No
My mom tell me to find friends
but I told her :I have friends. Did I introduced them to you?
I have one that talks to me,
one who speaks for me,
and few others who take me to trips.
Then she shakes her head.
And when I came back inside those knowledge walls, there is an old lady who calls herself my second mom but I think she trolls,
She would tell me to study,read,solve,write
and fail me when I don't do it right.
And the kids at my age who suppose to be my peers launch paper missiles towards me. It hurts.
Or they would yell at me,shouting
Stupid
It hurts even more.
But I have to let them
And the pain becomes unbearable
I am not stupid
in fact I have millions of ideas,they are beautiful
and colorful.
I want to show them to you
but you dont want to,
No one wants to.
So I have to tell them to someone I know, back to the place called home.
After the stories, I always feel sorry for him,
Sorry for he smiles even without jokes,
and cry during lonely nights
or shaking with fright.
I feel sorry if his home is not a home,
or a family not a family
When no ones takes care of his wounds
Sorry because he is alone.
But the mirror smiles back,
the only one who cares,
He told me tonight we will never be afraid.
Never again.
And we painted everything with red.
